46 Revolutions

full moon blessings and revelations from a year in the life

A little over a week ago, I celebrated 46 years of life.

Unlike last year when I commemorated my birthday by sharing a list of lessons learned, I’ve found it hard to pen something similar this time around.

This surely has something to do with the fact that I marked the occasion in Treasure Beach (Jamaica), in solidarity as the community rebuilds after the devastating passage of Hurricane Beryl. I’m still here in fact, bearing witness to the small and big manifestations of resilience, solidarity and love that underpin this story. It’s honestly been hard to find the words to do justice to this experience, not to mention the headspace to reflect more broadly on my last year of life.

But I’ll tell you this…

This birthday, I received the gift of a full moon.

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And not just any full moon, mind you. The “Deer Moon” or “Buck Moon” that graced the skies on July 21 is meant to usher in a time of growth, renewal and regeneration. And full moons in general are associated with change, fulfillment, intense emotion, intuition and spiritual energy flow. Not to mention that my sun sign is Cancer – ruled as we are by the moon.

It’s not that I’m an astrology fanatic or anything. But I do believe that if we’re meant to live in alignment with the seasons and the natural world, surely we should also pay mind to the stars and planets. And the moon of course. It’s a big part of the Hindu spiritual tradition that I grew up with and is still something that resonates strongly with me.

The full moon that illuminated Treasure Beach that night shone full and bright. I hosted a small gathering for friends in a beautiful home on top of a hill, which I think turned out to be a needed balm after the last intense weeks following the hurricane. We ate callaloo (and saltfish) fritters and jerk plantain, drank my friend Kerriff’s “rum pack a punch” (it’s not for the weak!), listened to sweet reggae tunes and gave thanks for life.

And as I sat in reflection afterwards, my thoughts settled on a few revelations that have come to me over the course of the last year.

46 candles (jumpsuit by Raga, choker by Mermade in Jamaica)

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Let yourself be silently drawn by the strange pull of what you really love…

Believe it or not, I don’t do change all that well.

Sure, I’ve been a nomad and a seeker for most of my adult life. I’d say that I’m open-minded, expansive in my worldview and pride myself on a growth mindset, striving to learn and evolve.  

But I also value stability, and the idea of changing certain elements of my status quo is pretty jarring. I suspect that I’m not the only one who feels this way.

Over the last months though, I’ve been working with a wonderful professional development coach. I sought her out because for some time now, I’ve had the inkling that my calling in life might be something different – or beyond – the work that I currently do. Perhaps like you, I question whether I’m making the best use of my abilities and skills in a way that’s aligned with my values and ultimately, with my heart.

I’m not sure where I’m going to land with this exploration. But I’m learning to challenge the “all or nothing” thinking that I’m sometimes guilty of, as well as dismantling some of the mental roadblocks that I’ve always put before myself. My (almost) daily practice of morning pages has also provided fertile ground and a steady compass for this journey.

And much to my surprise, it’s kind of exciting exhilarating. The idea that I can pivot and maybe walk a different path. And here’s the thing: we all can. May we always remember it.

“Let yourself be silently drawn by the strange pull of what you really love. It will not lead you astray.” - Rumi

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The cousins: joy and pain

I often think about how two different things can be true at once. I’m increasingly convinced that this is the secret to life.

It’s been a little over a year since my younger brother passed, and that’s a pain that I will always carry. This year, I also lost a close cousin as well as a dear friend from an earlier chapter of life. I saw some relationships end or take a downward slope. Over time, I’ve experienced countless heartbreaks, disappointments and some traumas too. It’s all a part of being human, I suppose.

And if you just look around, your heart breaks every day. There’s war and unspeakable horror unfolding all over the globe. In my country, women’s bodily autonomy is being eroded, books that teach our children the truth of our history are being banned, and Black men and women continue to be killed at the hands of the police. Climate change is proceeding at an unabated pace. A wicked hurricane mashes up a beloved place.

And yet.

There is so much joy. This year, I got up close and personal with lemurs in Madagascar and saw how a poor municipality in Brazil made massive progress in teaching children to read. I watched my almost 11-year old embrace a new school, go diving for conch, careen off of cliffs and eat Korean barbecue for the first time. I met wonderful people and welcomed abundant love in my life. Babies celebrated first birthdays, mothers turned 70. And on the very day of my birthday, the Democratic party passed the torch to Kamala Harris, a half Indian-American woman who shares the same name as my late grandmother and whose family hails from the same place as mine. I never could have imagined that such a day would come.

Here in Treasure Beach, despite the pain and loss brought on by the hurricane people give thanks for life and celebrate that life. They rebuild and support each other. They organize a huge, multifaceted fundraising effort. They smile and laugh and reason. They strap a sound system on top of a car to serenade the neighborhood domino tournament, celebrating the fact that much (but not all) of the community has gotten electricity back. They organize a beach party and art classes for the kids that have been through so much over the last few weeks.  

Because joy – small joy, big joy – is just as much a part of life as pain. And again quoting Mary Oliver here - joy is not meant to be a crumb.

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Love is a verb

It’s the most human of human things. Love that is. But something that I’ve been thinking about a lot recently is how it’s not just an emotion or an abstract concept. At its core, love is action.

To me, this suggests doing what we can in service of those we love. Maybe that means changing some aspect of your circumstances such that you can better support someone who needs it. Or making the conscious decision to honor the love in your life, in whatever way works for you.

Being in Treasure Beach at this time has been very illuminating in regard to this. In spite of the circumstances, I decided that we would maintain our summer travel plans and come here. We brought a mini-humanitarian cargo of stuff for friends and people in the community, simply because we were in a position to do so (thank you so much if you contributed to this!). On the ground, I’m helping with putting care packages together.

What I hadn’t realized though is the value of simply holding space for people or bringing a bit of vibes and levity during difficult times. I don’t know much, but I do know that for me personally, this feels like the very definition of love. And I’m blessed to give and receive it in equal measure, propelled by the blessings of the full moon.

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And before you go…

As a reminder, any love that YOU can give to the Treasure Beach community would be so much appreciated! Until the end of July (e.g. tomorrow), I’d be happy to match donations from any of my readers up to an amount of $1,000. Consider it a birthday present, if you’re so inclined. Here are all the details! And so much thanks and appreciation if you’ve already contributed – it means so very much.

Finally, I’ve realized that the story of the rebuilding here is a story that must be told and shared. If you have any suggestions of publishing outlets or opportunities for doing so, please let me know.